Indifference
by Dewi
Summary: A self-reflection of the past. Harry POV. "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."


A/N: Cheers to Nicole for giving me the idea with her fabulous other half of this (Hermione POV) Angsty stuff. Enjoy the read, in a twisted sort of way. :o)

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Indifference

I never had any friends in my early childhood. I was never given a chance; merely seen as someone not to befriend or suffer the consequences. Ironic, in a way, for when I first went to my new school, a place where no one knew me, yet everyone did, I turned down a friend for the same exact reason. Something I regret deeply now, but we'll get to that later. 

Like I said before, I had never had any real friends before. People who took pity on me, yes. But not any _real_ friends. So, naturally, I tried my hardest to fit in, because this was my chance. My first chance to start over; to create my own self-image, not something someone else created for me. 

I never took the liberty of reading more than what was required, doing more than what was asked; something for myself only, not for the teachers, which got to the very last nerves of an old friend of mine, but I only did it to fit in. I tried, but at the time, I saw no point in reading. Why read when you can get actual experience? Why _read_ when you can get the facts of your own speculation? 

If I only knew then what I knew now... I admired that old friend of mine; she always knew the right spell, at the right moment ( Ignoring that incident in first year, of course.) Maybe, just maybe, if I had saved my time then to learn those necessary facts, if I had just _listened_ to her, instead of trying to fight something that was mine to fight, but I wasn't ready for ( I thought I was.) .... maybe he'd be here. Maybe not.

That friend...she told me once something she'd read somewhere, and to this day I haven't forgotten it. 'The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.' She couldn't believe how wrong it was, and I agreed with her. Love and hate are the extreme of emotions, the opposite ends; there has to be a middle. Indifference is the lack of feeling; you don't love, you don't hate. You're just _there_. A horrible feeling, I'm sure. Oh, how I'd love to be indifferent towards everything that's happened to me. To just go on with my life, and pretend as if nothing's wrong, as if I don't feel completely whole. But in fact.... that _is_ what I do. Maybe... maybe it's right. If you see indifference as not the middle, but on the opposite side. Emotion, no emotion. Huh... a thought to ponder at another time.

I don't know if you could say I especially care... but I can't help but wonder what my life would be like right now, if... if _so many things_ hadn't happened. (Doesn't everyone?) What if. My life is filled with them; filled with so many life altering changes, so many tangents. But still...would the life I'm living now even _exist_ if certain events had never happened? Or the outcomes had been different? I mean, _what if_ I had stayed in the company of my godfather... instead of going to my relatives. I have no idea. _What if _my dad had chosen someone else; if he hadn't been so trusting. My childhood memories would be filled with love, not hate. _What if_ I had chosen the friendship of the wrong person. I'd be dead. Which, I can assure you, is something I would gladly exchanged for it to have been me, not...him. Had I had the choice then, or if I still did now, I would have taken his place. 

That one event, that _one _thing, has made my life unrecognizable. My _family_, the ones who stood in place of the one I had lost (And then lost again. How could we have known his dog-form was no longer a secret to the other side?). The ones who I thought would always be there, the only family I had ever known, is yet another thing I am no longer able to call mine. They said they forgave me; they said it wasn't my fault; they _said_ there was nothing I could do. But if they think I don't see that rueful look in their eyes _every single time _they look at me, they're mistaken. That look that so clearly shouts out to the world that they wish it had been me, and not him. That even I wasn't a worthy exchange, because I.Wasn't. Him. I couldn't replace him. I didn't try to replace him. 

She went with her family. I _loved_ her and she went with them. I begged (Which I loath to do.) her to stay. I told her I loved her… I tried to make her understand. That I needed her. That I couldn't survive without her. (I did in the end though.) She tried, I'll give her that. She tried to ignore the fact that her brother died for me. For _me_. Her idol from childhood, her boyfriend, her friend. _His_ friend. She left in a hurry. She told me it was for the best. That she didn't want to die because of me. I haven't heard from her since.

Now, it was _her_...it was_ her_ loss that hit me the most. I had thought we would always be together. The three of us; we'd always be a part of each other's lives. There was no definition to us; no boundaries that held us in. Until _then_. 

Now. 

Forever. 

We were no longer part of a trio... we were only two parts, no longer able to function correctly without the third. She turned away, made half hearted excuses, completely blew me off; anything. Everything she did was to get away from _me_, someone who used to be her friend, but now only caused her pain. And she caused the worst kind of pain of all to me. 

At the time, I thought it was betrayal. Turning to someone we had so clearly despised all our childhood years, someone who had just recently proved himself trustworthy. I realize now, it was a way out for her, that it wasn't betrayal at all. I, too, was searching for a way out of all the pain, all the heart-wrenching agony, but in the opposite way as her. She withdrew from me, while I looked to go closer. ( Bittersweet.) We were his best friends, we were _each others_ best friends, so we should share our pain together, right? She didn't feel that way. More pain; more so than the lost of a friend through death. She was still alive, still breathing everyday, and she _chose_ to end her friendship from me. It wasn't undeniable fate that chose it, it was _her_. _That_ was the worst pain of all.

She said...she said it wasn't my fault, there was nothing I could do. But unlike the regretful looks everyone else tried to hide from me, she didn't. Her eyes held no emotion towards me. None at all. (A very frightening thing, I must add, to be coming from your best friend.) And she let me see it too, as if she didn't care, something I'll never forget. Eyes telling more than words. Eyes saying everything. 

Eyes that foretold the beginning of the end.

The end of one life. Kind of. The beginning of another. Possibly. The in-between time of my lives. Unquestionably. Everyday, I wonder 'what if'. And everyday I come to the same conclusion. It doesn't matter. Maybe that quote _does_ speak the truth...

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The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.


End file.
